I got stopped at the canadian border once. My friend and I had driven up to Seattle from Colorado in a pickup truck for spring break. We were going to visit my then-girlfriend and 5 of her friends up there for a week, and one day we decided we would go up to Canada and drink a bunch of beers, because the drinking age was 18 over there. We didn't even think that having 5 people in the bed of the truck would be a problem until we were at the point of no return talking to a Canadian border booth guy. He calmly asked us to get out of the vehicle and lined us up in the customs office and searched our car and found some pot. He was understandably upset by this. He brought some dogs around and they sniffed at us. He asked us why we were going to Canada, and we explained we were there to drink beer only. We didn't mean to bring the pot in, and obviously it would be more plentiful on this side of the border. But he still took us to the back and asked me to strip down. It was a flashlights, no fingers kind of search, but still, something to remember my trip by.

Also they took this little spiked bracelet that I was wearing ironically around my wrist. They said in Canada, such things were considered weapons. And then he gave me some pink receipt that said I surrendered the item to the crown, and it was worth about 15 Canadian dollars, which I think is about 2.50 in america money, but I could be wrong. I'm too lazy to google it right now so let's go with 55 cents. I hung on to that thing like a treasure at the time, the little pink slip. It was so funny, but it's lost now, after several moves, because guys don't keep scrapbooks.

We went into Vancouver and drank Molsons and listened to a terrible 80's band play at the Roxy. And the 7 of us crammed into a single hotel room, and me and my girlfriend slept on the floor together. In the morning, my friend Shane and I would leave for Portland, OR. They would spend another night in Canada, then head back to Seattle by train.

Ok, I forgot to tell you. They didn't find all of our pot when they searched the car. For some reason they missed a pipe and a little piece that we hid in the wheelwell compartment. I was positive they had found it, but they hadn't. So we actually had a little pot, and we ended up smoking it with the girls. Ok, flashforward again to the American border. We're crossing the border, and the guy is grilling us. He's a cop, and we have this kinda dumpy pickup and we're about 19, and so he pulls us over and searches the car. And he finds the tiniest little pieces of pot in the carpet, and he tells us that it's enough to send us to jail, and that we ought to tell him if we have anything else or he was going to get pissed. And I was so scared I told him about the little pipe we had shoved in the seat cushions and he must have believed my fear and guilt because he let us go.

And we drove down to Portland and stayed with my brother for a few days, and I fell in love with the city, so that's where I live now. And I do go up to Canada from time to time, but usually it's by train, or it is extremely clean. You can get pot in Canada, it's not that hard. Just ask.

And you know what else is weird? I still have 767 characters remaining in this description. What possibly more could I have to say here?

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